Stavanger Bay Rose

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Discussion of terminal illness!

Reverie had never wanted anyone to take care of her. Freedom was what she'd always wanted, and that was what Lestan had allowed her in her weeks of respite from illness — but it had not made her happy. In fact, she was deeply unhappy; and she'd blamed it on him, on his silences and his distance, but she was realizing now that it was her own fault. She could only ever seem to push her family away when she most needed their warmth.
She felt that warmth now, aware of the way Lestan was attentive and gentle with her. Reverie felt it was undeserved, not least because of the small spiteful part of her that could only feel it had come too late. He was a better husband than she deserved… but that didn't quite soothe the hurt of what he had been to her before. She looked at him and thought: I can't. I can't tell him. I won't.
That might help a little, She murmured, eyes warm and stinging now. Lestan, I - I was wrong. About why I'm sick. Kukutux was wrong, too. I thought - I hoped it was because of Blossom, because that would mean it isn't - She took a deep breath, and forged ahead without allowing Lestan time to respond.
Sometimes… well, there's a certain sickness that people get. Something goes wrong - internally. It - it's different for everyone. But it always ends the same way, and - Reverie fought the mounting urge to cry. The only thing anyone can do is… manage the symptoms, until -
She hated herself.
I'm sorry. And the tears started to fall.